Harry Potter's Revolution
by InSilenceSheDwells
Summary: Voldemort is defeated. Harry realizes that the reasons the war happened are not solved. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only part of his destiny. HPHG. Non-HBP Full summary inside
1. Prologue

**Harry Potter's Revolution **

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **

Het. HP/HG pairing. Character Deaths - Previous to Story (among which are Dumbledore; the Dursleys; Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange) Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during Voldemort's second war.  
Ron-bashing. Dumbledore-bashing. Dursley-bashing.

**Beta: **None yet. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon.

English is only my second language. I am certain I have made some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Feel free to point them out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer: **Oops. Forgot to add it in the first upload. Oh well. I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/ 'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note - that 'this-or-that' was borrowed (with permission, for I will ask for permission, first) from 'some-person'.

Anyway, on to the story.

EDIT: Added some warnings to the list.

**Prologue**

Harry Potter woke up with a smile on his face as he saw the beautiful woman sharing his bed with him. Hermione. Hermione Potter, née Granger.

They had married only a few weeks ago, on the sixth of April, two weeks after Harry had vanquished Lord Voldemort once and for all. He softly stroked her hair, causing Hermione to move and whisper in her sleep.

He still could not believe that he had been lucky enough to find someone as loving and caring, as beautiful and understanding and patient and intelligent as Hermione. There still were days that he thought he had to be dreaming, for this was too good to be true. He didn't deserve someone as great as Hermione. _His_ Hermione.

Then again, he probably wouldn't have believed he was a wizard either, let alone the Chosen One, or Destroyer-Of-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, as they had recently dubbed him.

It bothered Harry that even though the man had been truly destroyed this time, with not a single chance he'd return _again_, most people, including the Ministry, were still too afraid to speak his self-chosen name.

Every morning when he woke up next to her, he thought himself a lucky man. Every time he looked into her beautiful brown eyes, he wondered why she had chosen him, for he was certain he didn't deserve her. Every evening or night, when they laid next to each other, he knew she was the only reason most of his nightmares had stopped.

Not that he had no more nightmares at all – God knew he had seen enough during the last weeks, last months of the Second War to scar a veteran, let alone a eighteen-year-old boy, barely out of school, carrying the fate of both worlds, Muggle and wizarding, heavily upon his shoulders.

For that _was_ what had happened, with Voldemort and his merry band of Death Eaters on the loose while the idiots at the Ministry of Magic had been sticking their heads in the sand until it was too late.

Even when the Ministry had realized its fault, they had hardly been willing to do anything, fearing for escalation. How blind they had been, for it had been mostly their attitude that had caused the escalation.

With almost no opposition – precious few wizards and witches had been willing to risk anything, especially when it meant going against both Voldemort _and_ the Ministry – Voldemort and his Death Eaters had had as good as free play. In the end, it had been mostly Harry and the very few that had dared to stand at his side that had brought Voldemort down. Without the inside help they had gotten from some people he would never have suspected to help him, Harry was certain he would not be sitting here, looking at his beautiful, sleeping Hermione. He still thought of their help every day, and was grateful. It had been them, more than he himself, that made victory possible.

And yet, while _he_ had immediately been named their saviour – _again_ – and was praised by the public and the Ministry, had been dubbed Destroyer-Of-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and had almost immediately received an Order of Merlin, First Class, the Ministry had almost thrown those that made his victory possible in Azkaban.

Harry himself had had to explain, time after time – to the Ministry, to various reporters from various newspapers, magazines and even one from the WWN, the Wizarding Wireless Network – that _yes_, while most of them had indeed once been Death Eaters, and _yes_, most of them were from Dark families indeed, and _yes, __**indeed**_ had two of them even been in Voldemort's Inner Circle at the time of his defeat, _no_, they were not evil, nor loyal to Voldemort. That, in fact, without them, his final and ultimate defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort had been impossible.

During the first two weeks since Voldemort's defeat, Harry had truly started to doubt the average intelligence of the ministry employees and of those in the wizarding world in general.

Again people had almost been thrown into Azkaban without even as much as a _farce_ of a trial, and this time more then just _one_, too.

Again it seemed that the guilty were innocent as long as they had money and pure blood, and that those with both were only proclaimed guilty when there truly was no other choice. Rodolphus Lestrange had been a good example of this. While his wife and brother had both died during the war, he had survived. Even though rich and of an old family, it was unavoidable that he was convicted. Lucius Malfoy, on the other hand, had almost walked free once again, but Harry had managed to prevent that from happening. His last words after conviction but before Aurors took him to Azkaban, had been towards Harry, swearing at him and damning him, Lucius Malfoy's arrogance and regal attitude forever gone.

During the trials in the first weeks since Voldemort's death and the fall of his Second Reign of Terror, Harry truly had had to intervene far more often than he was comfortable with.

To him, it had truly seemed that little had changed. Corruption and bureaucracy still thrived, closed-mindedness and greed still ruled the wizarding world and the ability to think for oneself seemed to be truly a rare talent.

So he had realized that something _had_ to change. Yes, the world was at peace once again – but for how long? Dark Lords and small periods of peace had followed upon each other for generations now, for the wizarding world had known no true peace since _before_ Grindelwald.

While the problem might seem dealt with and the case resolved to most, Harry knew that the surface of the true problem had merely been scratched. As long as corruption and bureaucracy ruled, together with prejudices both on the Light and Dark side – for Dark not necessarily meant evil and Light not necessarily meant good, so had Harry learnt all too well – and stagnation and soon retrogression were all the wizarding world had, there truly was no hope. Wizards, so had Harry noticed, did not look forwards, to the future. They looked to the past, and the past only. There had – with the exception of some household charms, prank items, improved broomsticks and the Wolfsbane Potion – hardly been any inventions in recent times.

It was pure blood that witches and wizards sought after, so instead of looking what they could do for the future of the wizarding world, people spent hours after hours tracing the history of their families, hiding the blemishes of squibs and halfbloods in their family trees, and priding themselves on the _purity of their blood_.

It were legends people sought after, Merlin and the Four Founders of Hogwarts were praised and adored as if Gods. People prided themselves on following tradition – doing exactly the same thing generations and generations of wizards and witches before them had done, making choices based upon history and legend, tradition and purity of blood. They held the same opinions that their ancestors decades or even centuries ago had held – with as only reasons _that_ those ancestors had done those things, held those beliefs.

Even the ambition and cunningness of Slytherin had become nothing but a lie. A strong desire to achieve something had been replaced by the strong desire to do _exactly_ the same that had been done for centuries. Cunningness became flaunting with money and influence and a long, _pureblooded_ familytree. Slytherins in general held the old ways, the traditions of old, closer to them than any other House did.

Oh yes, the wizarding world had once indeed _been_ centuries ahead of the Muggle world. This was where the prejudices against Muggles and muggleborns had once been based on.

They had, in a way, been true then. They truly _had been _farther than any Muggle.

But by holding close to tradition and opinion of their ancestors, the old families held close to both the belief that the were higher than Muggles, farther, had achieved more, and the belief that they should live the same way their ancestors had done. They truly lived close to how they had lived four, five centuries ago, with only small progress, while the Muggles had progressed far. Now the Muggles were ahead. A lead of several _centuries_ had been turned to its exact opposite.

The wizarding world truly had stagnated.

Change was needed, and he disagreed with the stance of the Ministry. While progress for the sake of progress normally hardly was useful, even _that _would be useful in the wizarding world of modern times.

Therefore he had spoken with a group of people he had either trusted since long or had learnt to trust during the war. In the end, there was one thing they had all seen. Something _had_ to change. For while the acute problem might have been dealt with and Voldemort was indeed defeated, that which had made it possible for such a war to happen, had not changed.

A second Voldemort could easily stand up one day. They had peace, true, but it was an unstable peace. A new war could happen tomorrow or in a year, or in a generation or perhaps even only a century from now, but if nothing changed, a new war _would _inevitably happen.

So together they had made a decision. The wizarding world had seen war. Now they would see revolution.


	2. Chapter 1 In which a Vow is Made

**Harry Potter's Revolution**

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **Het. HP/HG pairing. Minor Character Deaths. Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during the second war.

**Beta: **None yet. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon.

**Note: **English is only my second language. I am certain I have made some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Feel free to point them out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer: **Oops. Forgot to add it in the first upload. Oh well. I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/ 'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note

Thanks for giving me my first review at FFN, Monnbeam. 3

**Chapter 1 – ****In which A Vow is Made**

Harry shook his head, slightly annoyed. Now was not the time to ponder upon those things. Certainly, the revolution was of great importance. Together with the others, those he knew he could trust in both war and peace, they had worked on plans to bring change to the wizarding world. Some plans had recently been set into motion, others were merely waiting for the right… signal to start. Other plans would have to wait longer.

He had influence, nowadays. Influence and money – but even though he was again the saviour of the wizarding world and its greatest hero, the plans they would set into motion would take more than just his word, even if he was one of the most influential men in wizarding Britain nowadays.

Change would not happen easily.

Sure, Harry could have gotten some laws through without much help, if he had wanted. But while a couple of laws would have certainly helped, none of them could truly change the system, the corruption that had polluted almost all of the Ministry, the greed, the lust for money and great power that was unsurpassed even in the worst countries and regions in the 'inferior' Muggle world.

However, no matter how important the revolution was, there was no need to ponder upon each and every part of it at six o'clock in the morning. In all honesty, Harry was not even sure _why _he was still awake, why he hadn't simply rolled over to his other side to go back to sleep again. It was a Saturday, for crying out loud!

So there he sat, on the edge of the bed, looking at the beautiful face of his wife Hermione. When he turned his head slightly, he could see the window facing the east. Sunrise had started perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes ago. Birds were singing loudly. A new day had started. A month and a day since Voldemort's defeat.

Harry stepped out of the bed, careful not to wake Hermione. Later at the day they would meet with some people, all with them, going for Revolution. They would speak about the progress they had made – so far it was more than Harry had suspected but less than he had hoped for. They would see some people they had not seen for quite some time as well – friends that had gone into hiding when the second war broke loose, either under Fidelius or out of the country. It was understandable. While their help would have been useful, many simply had no choice. When they went into hiding, Harry had at least not had to _worry_ about them.

With a deep sigh, he picked up the clothes he was going to wear and went to the bathroom, opening the door softly. If Hermione was still asleep, he would let her sleep. It was not like either of them had had much sleep during the past month, with everyone wanting to know everything about the war and Voldemort's fall. And even if nothing was expected of them, it wasn't uncommon that one of them woke from a nightmare either. And the last months before Harry had finally managed to defeat Voldemort once and for all, had been even worse.

For the death numbers had risen quickly. People disappeared, to be found dead weeks or months later. Children lost their parents, parents saw their children killed before their own eyes moments before two words and a green flash of light ended their lives as well. It had truly been gruesome. In the last few weeks of the second war, there had been more victims – on both sides – then during all of the first war. In the end, fire had been fought with fire, and many innocents had burnt in the flames of war as a result.

Harry shook his head again, walking towards the sink, looking in the mirror, staring at nothing. While the mirror reflected his face, it was almost as if he didn't notice it. Instead he stared in the distance.

It was hard not to think about the war, even if it was peace now. Perhaps _because_ it was peace, now. During the war they couldn't afford to ponder about the horrors, for they had to be alert at every moment, to keep going on and on, no matter what happened. It was almost impossible to get the images out of his head. Images of horrors he had witnessed during war. Violence, torture, murder. They had all lived in war for years now - three years of war, almost four years since Voldemort had risen again. Whatever innocence he might have had left after his youth at the Dursleys and the annual… _adventures_ at Hogwarts he had now truly lost. Voldemort had cost him his parents, indirectly his youth – although Harry blamed the Dursleys more for that – his godfather, more than one friend, any kind of normal puberty he might have hoped for, his innocence and Harry had no doubt that if Hermione hadn't been there for him, at his side, Voldemort would have cost him his sanity as well.

Flashes of images shot through his head, of cruelty and horrors he had witnessed during the war. A tear rolled down from his eye as he saw his godfather falling through the veil, again and again. As he saw a green flash of light kill Cedric. As he saw Bellatrix hold a little Muggle girl under Cruciatus. As he saw a _Diffindo_ from a masked Death Eater's wand behead an unknown wizard. As he saw the blood covering the floor and walls. He remembered the screams and cries he had heard from the wife of the wizard that had just been murdered before his eyes, and knew that he could not come out of his hiding place. That if he did, all would be lost. He had felt so horrible, so guilty, so dirty afterwards, even if he _knew_ he had no other options. He still felt guilty, dirty.

More tears fell down. They had won, yes, but in the end they had lost so much. If he hadn't had Hermione and the small group of people he still trusted and cared for, he would have given up long ago. Without them, it would not have been worth living anymore.

They all had become used to the war. Paranoid and alert, wand always ready, always checking the surroundings. Constant Vigilance. Now it might have been peace, but they still felt the same. The paranoia had only become worse, not less.

A horrible headache seemingly split his head in two, and Harry clutched his head in his hands. It felt as if lightning had struck him right there and then.

"Keep breathing," he whispered to himself, and as he carefully breathed in and out, the headache slowly decreased. He opened his eyes again and looked in the mirror. Red traces were visible on his cheeks, the skin irritated by the salt tears. His eyes looked almost dead, his finger traced a scar on his neck. He shivered slightly, although the weather was not particularly cold. Another teardrop fell from his eyes, splashing on the edge of the sink.

The public might see him as a saviour and a hero, but he would forever remember those he couldn't save. He would forever remember the screams of the victims of the Cruciatus, the tears of the wives who saw their husbands slaughtered like animals before their eyes. The cries of anguish he heard. The spilt blood he saw, soaking the earth. The children, not unlike himself, who lost their parents, not knowing why.

He would always remember what they had lost – not what they had won. And so he looked into his own eyes in the mirror and made a vow that would change the world. A vow that would give him a chance to bring wizarding Britain the revolution it needed.

He looked into his own eyes and whispered two words, so soft that, had someone stood next to him, they could have thought they imagined it. Two words that would, perhaps, change the world.

"Never again."


	3. Chapter 2 In which a Prophecy is Spoken

**Harry Potter's Revolution**

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **Het. HP/HG pairing. Minor Character Deaths. Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during the second war.

**Beta: **None yet. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon.

**Note: **English is only my second language. I am certain I have made some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Feel free to point them out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer: **Oops. Forgot to add it in the first upload. Oh well. I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note.

---

**Chapter 2 – In which a Prophecy is Spoken**

Harry felt power building up inside his body, pushing and pulsing, trying to get out. He felt it flowing through his body like his blood flowed through his veins. He clenched his fists, the look in his eyes became harder and he was more certain of himself.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, as he felt his heart pumping his blood through his veins, faster and faster, adrenalin racing through his body. For a second he closed his eyes, only to open them again perhaps a second later.

"As long as I live, so I swear, I shall never let such a thing happen again. Never. Again."

Behind him, around him, a swirl of light, of magic was to be seen, visible even in the mirror Harry still looked at. A swirl of silver and gold, black and blue and red and the purest white Harry had ever seen. He realized he had sworn a magical oath, made a vow. To never let such horrors happen again. To never ever let the wizarding world fall into such ruins again.

While aware what impact an oath like this could have on his life, Harry was not worried. Whether he would have sworn this oath or not, he would have given _everything_ to prevent this from happening again anyway. Even his magic or his life, if needed.

What he was unaware of, though, was that with this oath, he had set another prophecy into motion. He was unaware that without this oath, he would not have had a chance to truly bring the wizarding world the revolution it needed. The revolution he and Hermione held so dear.

Miles away from where he was – or perhaps even in a different dimension – three elder women, older than even Time itself, stared in the distance, then looked at eachother, each with a serene smile on their face. A sound-yet-not-sound they heard, they saw something invisible, they felt something never felt before.

"Time has come…" One murmured to the others. Both other women nodded. Her voice, although old, was songlike, of great beauty and excitement. She was the youngest of three.

"Time of change has come," the second woman said. Her voice held a both powerful and protective tone. Again the others nodded. Of the three, she was the middle – neither eldest nor youngest, but between them both.

"The Prophecy will be fulfilled." Her voice held wisdom and experience, for she was the eldest of the three. The sound of bells was softly to be heard in the distance.

At that same moment but on a different place, a young orphaned girl, only seven years old, blinked. Before her a rose had suddenly sprouted from barren ground and opened itself for her. Entranced by its beauty, the girl stared at the flower, her tears forgotten for the moment.

Not far from there, a boy and his twin sister saw a beautiful, colourful bird landing before them, singing a calming and entrancing song. It cleaned its feathers, spread its wings so the twins could see its great beauty, then stared at them for a moment, before flying away, towards a forest not too far from there. Years later the boy had become a great artist and the girl a well-known writer. When asked what their source of inspiration had been, they referred to a beautiful singing-bird they had seen together in their youth.

Several miles from there, a boy walked along the shores, looking at the cliffs, once in a while bowing forwards to pick up a pebble or shell that had attracted his attention. His eye caught a stone a few steps away from him. He picked it up. At first it looked common, until he turned it around, and saw a beautiful fossil.

On the other side of the sea, in Ireland, a girl, standing on the shore as well, looked in the distance, at the horizon. Her look became glazed as she slowly went into a trance and a voice different from her own spoke a prophecy.

"_The one marked as the Dark Lord's equal survived,_

_born at the end of Ruby's summery month,_

_born to the Flower, born to the Stag,_

_still bearing the power his equal knew not" _

The voice that spoke was of unsurpassed beauty. Her words were spoken almost like a song.

"_Peace reigns again over the Isle of Albion;_

_a__ place of Legends of Old and Tradition_

_that has been kept the same for centuries _

_both during times of war and of peace"_

A different voice spoke this time, one that held great warmth and tenderness and an air of protection, of safety. The words were spoken almost like a prayer.

"_A new time now swiftly approaches as One _

_who was Chosen, One who Vanquished and Defeated_

_One who Vowed and who Lived where others died_

_becomes the One to bring Change to Albion's Isle…"_

Again a different voice spoke. The voice was old and held no beauty or warmth, no childlike excitement or maternal affection, but instead the wisdom and experience of great age.

The girl was unaware of all of this. Instead she Saw a small glimpse of the future and of other dimensions while the three Elder Voices controlled her body. For that was the Ancient agreement – Seers gave up control of their body for a while, giving themselves to the Elder Powers, the Elder Voices so that these could Speak, and in return they were allowed to See a glimpse – of the future, of other dimensions, of things others could not See.

And unaware of all these things, Harry James Potter washed the tears from his face, took a quick shower and clothed himself, trying to calm himself.

In the bedroom, his wife Hermione Jean Potter was still vast asleep, unaware of all that had happened, unaware of all Harry had set into motion.

After he had showered and clothed himself, Harry carefully walked down the stairs towards his living room and then to the kitchen, where he quickly made himself some breakfast. Seating himself at the simple, wooden table, he picked up yesterday's newspaper, for today's Daily Prophet had not yet arrived.

While he had managed to read most of the articles in it yesterday, he had little to do and perhaps reading that which he knew already would calm him down for now.

Sipping from his tea, he read an article again about the Wizengamot Trials against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's Death Eaters.

Even though Skeeter hadn't written this, it still was of abominable quality. Clearly the writer had not even _tried_ to get the details right – and Harry could know it, for he had been there for most of the trials mentioned. Truly, you'd think they'd at least be capable of spelling the name of a _twice_-convicted Death Eater right.

As far as Harry was aware, no one existed with the name _Rodelph Lestrange _– let alone any convicted Death Eaters. Yes, a _Rodolphus _Lestrange did exist. And yes, _he_ was most certainly a Death Eater.

An owl flew in, delivering Harry this day's edition of the Daily Liar. He gave the headlines a short glance, then groaned immediately. He truly wondered why he kept paying the owls for the Prophet. With the horrible quality of it, _he_ should actually be paid for reading it.

Nonetheless, with an upcoming revolution, he had to know what the ministry said – for the Prophet was nothing else than Ministry Propaganda. It had been that way during the past war, and it still was true now.

It was one of the things Harry intended to change.


	4. Chapter 3 In which Hermione Wakes Up

**Harry Potter's Revolution**

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **Het. HP/HG pairing. Minor Character Deaths. Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during the Second Wizarding War.

**Beta: **Still none. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon. Have dropped one a message, but so far no reaction.

**Note: **English is only my second language. I am certain I have made or will make some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Feel free to point them out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note.

**Reviewers: **Thank you, Monnbeam, librarywitch, dbzgtfan2004 and HarryPotterFinalfantasyfanatic for your reviews. Glad to hear you all like the story. Librarywitch, I agree with your opinion on HP/HG vs. HP/GW and nope, with GW I don't mean George. –wink-  
dbzgtfan2004, I will most certainly continue, but during the week I have far less time to write – and therefore, to update – than in the weekends. Most updates will be during weekends, although I might occasionally manage one or two during the week as well.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – In Which Harry Reads the _Daily Prophet_ and Hermione Wakes Up**

With a sigh, he looked at the _Prophet_ again. He had little to do, for it was only a couple of minutes past seven in the morning. He didn't want to wake up Hermione yet. They still had _hours_ before they had to go to London. Somewhere between half past ten and eleven they would meet the first people. Knowing Hermione, she'd want to be there earlier. They would most likely apparate to London around ten o'clock. Should Hermione still be asleep around nine, he'd wake her.

He doubted he'd have to, though, for Hermione rarely woke up later than half past eight. A smile formed itself on his face when he thought about _his_ Hermione, his beautiful wife and the love of his life. Oh, sure, he had one day thought himself in love with Cho Chang. However, his 'love' for Chang had easily and quickly proved nothing more than attraction.

He had wondered about his feelings for Ginny too, when more than just _one_ person had tried to set him up with her. He knew all too well he felt nothing for Ginny, nothing more than friendship, but when people tried to get them together, Harry had wondered whether they perhaps saw something he did not see. He knew it was expected, both his father and grandfather had married a 'red-head', so to speak, and he had saved Ginny from a certain death in her first year. Many saw them as the perfect couple. After all, he was the hero that had saved the damsel in distress, wasn't he? And Potters as a rule were attracted to red-haired women, weren't they? Yes, he and Ginny should have been a couple in the eyes of many.

When even the usually clueless _Weasel_ had tried to set his own younger sister up with Harry, he had almost wanted to die in shame and embarrassment. It had caused Harry and Ginny to talk, though, which was a good thing.

Ginny had almost been scared to ask Harry if he _was_ indeed in love with her, like Ron – and so many others before him – had claimed. Harry had then carefully told her that, although he liked her as a good friend and didn't think she was ugly or repulsive or anything like that, he did not like her as more than a good friend and that he felt almost like a brother to her. He had never seen as relieved as she was at that moment before.

She herself felt exactly like Harry had described – Harry was a good friend of hers, and a protective older brother, but not someone she was – or could fall – in love with. She, like he himself, had been afraid to hurt his feelings, for she knew Harry felt often insecure, because he had not had he most trustworthy of upbringings.

He had in his youth not been allowed to express himself – whether his opinion or feelings – and even if he did, no one listened to them. He simply had to do what was expected from him.  
_Never ask, never speak when not asked to, answer when asked a question, do the chores, never get higher marks than Dudley, never talk about your parents, never talk about magic, never do anything strange._

Then he had, at once, been thrown into the wizarding world, where he was famous, a hero and a celebrity. Again he had to hide his true emotions and opinions and instead do what was expected of him – _again_. To be the hero.

Never had anyone asked him if he wanted to do certain things. He just had to. Other people expected him to do so, his dorm mates did, his friends did, and even if _they_ all didn't, then there were always the newspapers and books. The prophecy, dictating his life since he was born.

He had quickly learnt that whether he was hated or loved for it, he was different than others. Even among those of _his kind_, he was different, an exception, not like anyone else. It caused jealousy – people were jealous of his fame, of his money, of his power. It caused false friends. People tried to befriend him, only _because_ of his name, the fame it carried, of his money – which was only his because his parents and godfather _died_ for him – and later, when people became more aware of him, when he slowly stopped hiding the real Harry, when he stopped trying to be the same as all others, because of his magical power.

In his early youth, Harry had wished for nothing more than to be normal, not realizing that it were _his relatives_ who were the problem, not he himself. That dear _Dudley_, who was apparently so much better than a _freak_ like he could ever hope to be, was anything but normal.

He had rested his efforts when he learnt, had realized that no matter how he acted – whether he acted exactly like Dudley, who was _normal_, according to his aunt and uncle, whether he acted like his classmates, whether he followed every rule his aunt and uncle gave him, did every chore they asked of him, never attracted attention, never spoke unless spoken to – his relatives would always find something to punish him for. Would never, no matter how hard he worked, praise him and give him compliments, like they did with Dudley. They praised Dudley for things he would have been punished for.

When Hagrid had told him at his eleventh birthday he was a wizard, it explained much. Perhaps _that_ was why he could not be normal in their eyes, then? Why he was always different from the Muggles – why they always acted the way they did towards him? Once he would be around those like him, witches, wizards, everything would be better, right?

It had proved to be nothing but false hope. Many witches and wizards acted exactly the same as his relatives. The same amount of bigotry, although from a different point of view. The same amount of stupidity and hurtful words. Some loved him because of something he could not remember doing. Other hated him, for exactly the same thing. Some praised him – for something that had cost him his _parents_. Others belittled him for being an orphan. Some people loved him one week, to hate him the next week. People he had never met, had an opinion on him, based on _nothing_. People thought they knew him because they had read books and magazines about him – about a night that only he, his parents and Voldemort had been part of. A night of which only they could have, perhaps, told what had happened.

How did they write about it then, one wondered. What did they base it on? For both his parents were dead, Harry had before his fourth year never given an interview to anyone, and yet there were books about him _before_ his first year at Hogwarts. He truly doubted that Voldemort had given interviews about that night either. And even if he would have wanted to – which had a chance of about zero – he had been in Albania at that time, possessing small animals, and later professor Quirinus Quirrel.

Harry was also surprised. There were quite a few muggleborn students at Hogwarts, but all clearly loved their parents and were loved in return. So perhaps it was not Muggles in general that acted bad towards witches and wizards. Perhaps it was just his relatives and those influenced by the lies and rumours they spread about him? A seed of doubt, planted in his brain long ago, finally sprouted.

While he loved parts of the wizarding world dearly, he hated other parts just as much. Public opinion was rarely based on anything, shallow and ever changeable, in the wizarding world even more than in the Muggle world.  
This was proved time after time. During his Hogwarts years, all but his first year stood out, but it was well-possible that during his first year, he had merely been too young and too enthusiastic to notice most of it. A whole world hidden from people like his relatives! A world where he would have his own place, where he would feel at home and would fit in for a chance! Yes, he had been hopeful. Yet, again and again, his hope was crushed.

At least his relatives were constant in their opinion of their "freakish" nephew. They never raised hope _just_ to crush it again.

Harry was truly disappointed. The people who ruled the wizarding world, whether formally or not, proclaimed themselves superior, yet did not seem capable of logic. People like Hermione were shunned by certain groups, only because her parents and grandparents and ancestors before them had not had magic. Yet Hermione was one of the most intelligent persons Harry had ever met, whether Muggle or not. If it was about power and superiority, why did these people fail to see the potential of people like Hermione? For even before they had fallen in love with eachother, Harry had seen, had realized the extreme intelligence and potention his class- and Housemate possessed.

Her lust for knowledge could have easily brought her to Ravenclaw, her loyalty – a rare thing in the wizarding world – towards those she truly considered friends was Hufflepuff-like. Her ambition - to prove herself, to prove her knowledge, to learn and grow, to show that she too, even though muggleborn, was _truly _a witch - had not even been rivalled in Draco Malfoy, the face of Slytherin. Yet in the end it had been her courage that brought her to Gryffindor – and indeed, during the war she had proved, again and again, that she truly was brave and courageous. Yet she had proved her intelligence and lust for knowledge as well – it had saved them more than once. She had proved her loyalty. She, and she alone, was the one that had stood by his side ever since the first year. Certainly not Ron – the boy they had once both called their best friend - whose loyalty wavered more often than your average Slytherin's loyalty wavered.  
Her ambition was the only reason he had not given up during the war. Hermione.

He took a quick look at the clock in the kitchen, shaking his head. Somewhere between half past seven and a quarter to eight. He had dwelled in his thoughts for more than half an hour.  
It was something that happened to him often since the war had ended, especially when he was alone.  
If it was not the war that took all of his thoughts, it was Hermione. He stared at the ring on his finger and with a smile upon his face he remembered what was the most beautiful and important day of his life – more important than the day Hagrid told him he was a wizard, more important than the day he defeated Voldemort. The day he and Hermione had become husband and wife. He saw the small sapphire stones in his ring. Sapphire was September's stone – the month in which Hermione was born. She had a ring as well, with small rubies. Ruby, which was July's stone.

He focussed on today's _Prophet _again. Two articles on the front-page about convictions and arrests. Still there were new Death Eaters found almost every day. Some fled to foreign countries, others hid at unknown places in England. Still there were regularly bodies discovered, of Muggles as well as witches and wizards from all sides of the war.  
Many corpses had not yet been identified and were currently held in stasis to prevent further decaying, which would make it extremely difficult to identify the corpses.  
With a frown he looked at the main article on the front-page, about the convictions in the first three Inner Circle trials, of which the third had finished yesterday.  
Something Skeeter wrote, clearly. While some – not even _half_, thought – of the facts were right, Skeeter had completely messed things up again – even worse than during the Triwizard Tournament and during Umbitch's year. He quickly scanned through the article. Skeeter had mentioned his name eight times, of which twice with full titles as well, spoke three times about the Boy-Who-Lived and mentioned him as Destroyer-Of-He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named once as well. Twelve times, in _one_ article, that wasn't even ABOUT him. Skeeter was the kind of reporter to work for a tabloid, not a newspaper.  
Even if you could hardly call the _Prophet_ an actual _NEWSPAPER_, it still was far above Skeeter's level.

He scanned through another article, this one on the third page. Its level was slightly higher than Skeeter's, although not much. There were so many stupid mistakes in this one that it actually slightly amused Harry – not its content, but the stupidity of some people. It seemed that you didn't need much talent to be hired as a reporter in the wizarding world.

Perhaps that was the reason people with talent didn't become reporter – they didn't want to be associated with people like Skeeter, and there were no other daily newspapers around. They had little choice.

"Hm," Harry murmured in himself as he saw an advertisement in the corner of the second page. "Perhaps that's something… useful."  
He thought for a moment. "Ah… yes, I think I should show that to the rest of the group today. Circle's meeting anyway, right?"

Right at that moment, Harry heard something – someone – upstairs.

"I guess that means 'Mione's up too, then." A broad smile showed itself on his face. _When she's here, I guess I should show her this ad, _he thought, _I guess she'll see its use as well._

He folded the newspaper, put it back on the kitchen table and walked upstairs. He saw Hermione standing in their bedroom.

"Ah, so you're awake indeed. I _thought_ I heard you." Harry smiled.

Hermione looked at Harry, amused. "Yes, I am awake."

"You look great today, 'Mione. Then again, you always do," Harry said with a wink.  
Hermione blushed and turned around, towards the bathroom.

"I'm taking a shower, I'll be downstairs in a moment. Okay?"

Harry nodded. "Sure. What do you want for breakfast, love? I'd suggest something small, we'll probably eat something in London as well in an hour or something. And then probably _again_, with the Circle."

"Yes, yes. I know. Just a cup of coffee and two sandwiches, please?"

"Sure, no prob. Cheese and pepperoni, as usual?"

Hermione turned her head towards Harry and nodded. "Yes, one cheese, one pepperoni."

Harry smiled. "Sure." He walked towards the door, then looked at Hermione, who was still in her pajamas. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Hermione smiled. "I love you too. And of course I know, silly."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah. It was just that..." He took a deep breath. After all this years it still was difficult for him to admit weakness, to show his actual feelings.  
"That I had a bit of a rough morning, you know."

Hermione looked at Harry with some worry. "Are you okay? I know how difficult it is, thinking of the war, seeing the images flashing by."

Harry shrugged. "Not worse than yesterday or the day before…"

Hermione walked towards him and gave him an enormous hug. "It's not your fault, Harry. Don't let yourself believe it is, please?"

"I'll try not to, 'Mi, but you know I can't do more than what's possible for me. You know how it feels – even if you _know_ it's not your fault, it can still feel like it is, you know."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I feel the same sometimes." She smiled sadly and Harry softly stroked her hair. They stood like that for a minute, perhaps two, when Hermione gave Harry a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I'll go and take a shower now, is that okay?"

Harry nodded. "Ofcourse, I'll see you downstairs in a couple of minutes, I guess."

She gave him a soft kiss on his cheek, then turned around to the bathroom. "I'll see you in a few minutes, Harry."


	5. Chapter 4 In which Frustration is felt

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **Het. HP/HG pairing. Character Deaths - Previous to Story (among which are Dumbledore; the Dursleys; Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange) Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during Voldemort's second war.  
Ron-bashing. Dumbledore-bashing. Dursley-bashing.

**Beta: **None yet. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon.

**Note**** about Grammar and Spelling: **English is only my second language. I am certain I have made some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Ah, found the first one. Accidentally used 'where' instead of 'were' in chapter 3. Corrected it, though. Feel free to point errors out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note.

**Note: **Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed so far. 3 I seem to have been added to two C2s. Thank you for that. This is the longest chapter so far. Sorry you guys had to wait a couple of days for it. I was extremely busy with school, among other things. I have added some warnings.

_**Chapter **__**4 – In Which Much Frustration Is Felt**_

Harry walked down the stairs towards the kitchen and prepared the breakfast he'd promised to Hermione. Only a quarter past eight so far. Almost two hours before they had to go to London – somewhat like two-and-a-half hours and they'd finally see some of the people again that went into hiding shortly before or during the war.

Remus Lupin. The Ministry of Magic had – in the last days before the war broke loose fully – changed the laws on lycanthropes again. They had become even stricter then they were. Making it as good as impossible for Moony to work for the Order or Harry's smaller group, he had finally listened to Harry, who didn't want to lose his last link to his parents, and gone into hiding in Belgium.

Hermione's parents, Dan and Emma Granger. When Hermione had explained the war to them, they agreed to leave, but had wanted Hermione to come with them as well. Hermione had explained that, _should_ she come with them, she'd make both herself and her parents targets for Voldemort and his Death Eaters. As a known friend of Harry, they'd track her anyway, even if she went to a foreign country. She'd get both herself and them killed. On the other hand, if she'd stay in Wizarding Britain, they could move around enough that neither Voldemort or the Death Eaters would find them easily, and both Hermione and Harry doubted they'd bother to track her parents when they went to a foreign country on their own.  
They had not liked it, but Hermione had declared that, whether Dan and Emma would allow it or not, she'd follow Harry – to the bitter end, if needed – and that if they'd try to stop her, she'd simply disapparate. They left for America, fearing for their daughter's life but understanding – and respecting – her choice as well. Especially her father, who served in Muggle army for two years before becoming dentist.

When finished with Hermione's breakfast, he quickly poured himself another cup of tea, while folding out the newspaper again, looking at an article about the conviction of M. Nott (née Bulstrode) and T. Nott. He thought about the horrors he knew they had caused, and felt sick immediately. Millicent Bulstrode had in certain groups been fearfully described as 'a second Bellatrix'. Unknown to most, it had indeed been Bellatrix and the other Lestranges who trained the girl. Theodore Nott had not been _that_ cruel, but had caused quite a few horrors on his own or together with Millicent as well. It made Harry sick when he thought of how they had shared the same classes for _years_. While he had never trusted the two of them, he had never expected them to become like this either.

About fifteen, perhaps twenty minutes later, he heard the squeaking of the stairs. Hermione. He neatly folded the paper, put it back on the table and waited for Hermione to enter the kitchen. With a large swing, the door opened.

"Good morning, Harry," Hermione said, in a rather enthusiastic, although nervous, mood. It was understandable. It would be the first time in more than two and a half year she'd actually see her parents. They had left for America in October '96. Now it was near the end of April, 1999. It had been a long time. During the past few weeks, since Voldemort was defeated, she had managed to communicate with them – by letter, sometimes making a phone call as well. It would be the first time since the war had _truly_ started – and since they had left for America, on her urging – that she'd be able to speak with them face to face.

Harry was slightly nervous as well. It would be the first time he'd actually meet them as his parents-in-law, for they had not yet been married – or even only engaged – when the Grangers headed for America. While Hermione would have loved to have them over for their wedding, it simply wasn't possible, and after the war they'd wanted to marry as soon as they could – and with a small ceremony. They'd had enough media and reporters and important guests during the weeks since the fall of Voldemort. They had simply wanted a nice and calm wedding. Not even Remus had been there.

He'd meet Remus again as well – but they had been able to meet twice so far since Voldemort's fall. Belgium was a lot closer than America, and travelling – or actually, moving back to England – was a lot easier for a single, relatively poor wizard than it would be for a Muggle couple. Remus was part of Revolution's Circle.

"Morning, 'Mione," Harry answered, taking a small sip of his tea afterwards. "I believe you wanted a cup of coffee?"

"Hm, yes" she thought for a moment. She went to sit next to him at the kitchen table. "Coffee seems fine to me."

Harry walked to get Hermione her coffee. "Here, love."

"Thanks." She gestured to the paper. "Anything interesting in it?"

Harry sighed. "Mostly the usual crap. Millicent and Theodore have finally been convicted, though. Oh, Rita mentioned me like, twelve times, I believe, in an article that wasn't even _about_ me. Ah, and there's an advertisement I'd like to show you later. Perhaps we can do something with it." He winked.

"For the Circle, you mean?" Hermione asked. "Perhaps. You'd have to show me. Rita's as shallow as ever, I guess? Good to hear the trials of _those_ two are finally done. Full sentences, I assume? "

Harry nodded. "Yes, for the Circle, and yes, full sentences. And indeed, you're right about Skeeter."

"Hardly a surprise," Hermione murmured.  
"Skeeter…" She sighed deeply, then took a bite. "Thanks for preparing me breakfast, Harry."

Harry nodded, understanding all too well what his wife meant about Skeeter.

"You're welcome, 'Mione."

She simply nodded and took another bite. A quick look at the clock told him it was nearly nine. Another hour and they'd head for London. Although a _Tempus_ would've been just as easy, they both had learnt during the war not to use unnecessary magic, for it attracted enemies to you like moths to a flame.

"Did you sleep well, 'Mione? Or were you too stressed for today?"

Between two bites, Hermione looked at him. "Have had better nights, have had worse. 'T was a bit difficult falling asleep, but further there were no big problems. You?"

Harry sighed. "Woke up twice during the night, finally decided to head downstairs shortly after six. Didn't want to wake you, though."

She smiled. "Thanks – wouldn't have liked it all too well indeed. Glad you left me asleep. You mentioned you had a rough morning. How are you feeling right now, darling?" She put an arm around his shoulder.

"I'll manage." He thought about the swirl of magic he had felt – and seen – when he made the vow. He decided to tell her about that later – they were not in a hurry and right now she had enough to deal with. "I lived through worse – some memories won't break me if neither Voldemort nor Bellatrix could." He shivered slightly when he thought of _those_ memories.

Hermione sighed. "Just… don't hide your feelings inside, okay? I'll be here for you, but I need to know when you're having problems. It's difficult to help you when I don't know when you need helping, you know."

"Yes, 'Mione. I promise, _again_. You've made me promise that three times already this week."

She nodded. "I just don't want to lose you, love." She picked up the newspaper and started reading, making faces as she saw some of the articles.

"You were right – the usual 'crap' indeed. Truly, little that is of use to anyone, and even less we didn't know yet."

Before the war, Hermione would never have used words like crap, or been as direct as she was now. The war had changed them both.

Harry nodded. "True, very true. Then again, we know much inside information the public knows not. Nonetheless, I agree – there's very little in it that is of use to anyone. The only reason I keep reading it, is to know what the Ministry is up to. They should have called it either the Daily Liar or the Daily Propagandist. A Prophet it is most certainly not."

"It has enough trouble seeing in _hindsight_."

"Exactly." Harry nodded. "How long will we stay in London? Just a couple of hours or the night as well?"

Hermione thought. "We'll see after the Circle's meeting. I doubt we'll have to spend the night in London, though."

Harry smiled. "Then there's no need to pack much things, right? Just our money, some other basic things and our wands, then? Oh, by the way, we'd better take another trip to Gringotts soon, I believe. Still got quite a few things to arrange, you know."

Hermione nodded. "_Yes_, Harry, _I know_. You only told me four times the past two days."

Harry smiled. "I guess I am just a bit nervous because I'm going to meet my parents-in-law."

Hermione snorted. "Truly. We went through a war, Harry, where we – mere teenagers at that time – have had to kill, have had to run and hide or to fight, to capture or free people, to interrogate Death Eaters, to do things almost impossible, to finish a task nearly undoable, and you are _nervous_ to meet your wife's parents?"

Harry nodded. "I guess it sounds silly, but… yes, I am, in fact, nervous."

Hermione gave Harry a soft kiss. "There's no need to, Harry, you know that. If my parents _dare_ to make stupid comments, they'll have to deal with me. _You_ were the one that kept me safe during all of this, after all."

"I also was the only reason you got involved, 'Mione," Harry said softly, sadly.

"**HARRY JAMES POTTER!** You KNOW that, being a 'mudblood', Voldemort and his Death Eaters would have tried to kill me anyway, and _without_ you, I most likely _**would**_ have ended up dead or worse! Don't you dare… Don't you _DARE_ say that kind of STUPID. SILLY. **NONSENSE**. EVER. AGAIN!"

She pulled Harry into a big hug. "You know, Harry, despite whatever you might think, YOU. ARE. NOT. TO. BLAME. FOR. EVERYTHING that happens on earth. While you are powerful, you are neither omniscient nor omnipotent." Tears rolled down from her eyes, yet she looked Harry straight in the eye. Harry nodded, wanting it to be true, but feeling, inside himself, that he _was_ guilty.

He should have vanquished Voldemort sooner. He should have known better – he was the only reason Cedric died. He was the one that had gotten Sirius killed. He was the one that had gotten his parents killed, for without him, they would not have had to die. He knew – he had heard the memory, again and again, when he was near the dementors. It was _his_ blood that caused Voldemort to raise again. _He_ was the one that stopped Sirius and Lupin from killing Pettigrew, and therefore he was the only reason Pettigrew could escape and bring Voldemort to life again. It _was_ all his fault, no matter what Hermione said.

After they sat like that for a few minutes, pulling each other into a big hug, Harry stood up and walked from the table, towards the stairs.  
"I'll go pack our stuff, 'Mione."

When he was upstairs, Hermione gave her wand a small wave, so that Harry would not hear her, for he'd be worried and scared for her. She was not keeping secrets from him, but knew it would be better if he did not hear this. She simply needed to rant and vent her emotions, because she could not keep it all inside.

"Those thrice-damned Dursleys. Had they not died already during the war, I would most certainly have killed them. How did they ever dare to… Did they truly have no conscience, no morals at all? Such a sweet boy… Yet he still fights every day with the 'rules' and 'lessons' they inflicted upon him. He still feels he is to blame for everything, he still feels he is worthless. And how could he think different? It's what was forced upon him for ten years. TEN YEARS, during which he had _no one_ to go to, no one to trust in, no one to hold him when he was afraid. Nothing to share and no one to share anything with. How alone must he have felt? I truly cannot imagine."  
A tear splashed on the floor.

"Damn Dumbledore. Damn him, damn him, damn him! How could he leave Harry with those _horrible_ people? How could he send him back there every year, again and again? Dumbledore, if you can hear this, _how dared you?! _I think it is a wonder Harry did not turn into a second Voldemort. Alone for years, always 'unworthy', always a 'freak'. His only memory of his parents a green flash – the flash that ended their existence. He never knew anything but lies about them. How could you send him back there every year, again and again? Keeping secrets from him, feeding him lies. How dared you force Harry into the war at eleven already – and again, year after year? You should have known better. Manipulative. Old. Bastard. May you rot in _hell_. And to think I used to _defend_ you. Used to claim you probably had good reasons to do what you did. All for the Greater Good, wasn't it? You knew or suspected what _Tom_ would become, didn't you? You could have stopped him, BASTARD. But no. You used the killing curse once, to kill your old friend Grindelwald, and it scared you. You did not want to give up more of your innocence. Instead you gave up the wizarding world. It is almost as if you handed it over to Tom on a golden plate! YOU were the one that cost Harry almost everything, you know. His family. His friends. His chance at a youth. His innocence. You know, bastard, you almost cost him his sanity and his life on multiple occasions." Her voice was filled with anger. Another teardrop fell from her eye.

"Damned Voldemort. Was killing his parents not enough? No, you had to keep attacking the boy again and again, didn't you? Not only him – he could live with that, it seems, how I don't know, but he could – but those few people he cared for. Did you ever realize what you did? You have been lucky, you know. Harry won from you in the end, certainly. But did you ever stop to think what would happen, had his mind, his sanity snapped? Had you managed to do that, he would have won from you just as well, I am certain – but your end would have been much, much worse than it was now. You never realized how powerful Harry was, did you? He simply was 'lucky', right? All of the times he encountered you, he was 'lucky' – never thought it a bit suspicious for someone to be lucky on, like, five encounters before he even ended his education? Never thought it strange that, with no more than a fifth year's education, he folded your plans, time after time? That he captured your Death Eaters on multiple occasions? Voldemort, had Harry snapped, you would have ended up worse than Neville's parents. Harry won from you in the end, but how much did he lose throughout the years, Tom, thanks to you? I hope you shall burn in hell forever, _Tom Marvolo Riddle_." She spat those last words.

"And you, Ron. Did you _ever_ realize what you did? Yes, Harry had more gold than you. Yes, Harry had more fame and certainly more power. Don't you realize that Harry would have willingly traded each and every coin, all attention he ever got and would even have become a squib to have that which you had? True family, like you had. Harry would have willingly given up _everything _for you, Ron. _HOW_ _COULD YOU DO THAT! _Do you realize, at night, how alike you and Percy are? And you, Ron, you were his first friend EVER. His best friend. At least Percy didn't really _know_ Harry. Harry would have done _EVERYTHING _for you, you backstabbing traitor. He would have knowingly and willingly given up his life for you. If he thought he could safe you with it, he'd probably even had handed himself over to Voldemort or Bellatrix. Do you ever realize what you have DONE?! Are you aware that you came closer to breaking Harry than Voldemort or his Death Eaters ever came? Do you know what that would have meant for the world, Ron? Oh yes, Harry would have vanquished the Dark Lord in the end, I'm sure – to become the next one. Had Harry snapped, Ron, all hope would have been lost. Had Harry wanted, he could have done that which Voldemort could not. He could have ruled the whole world. He could have crumbled it all beneath his feet. He never wanted to – will never want to – but if he had snapped… who knows what would have happened? RON, YOU ALMOST WERE THIS WORLD'S _DOWNFALL_! I hope you are proud of yourself, for no one else is or will ever be. I truly hope you have that which you wanted so much – a life like Harry's. A life of hate, sadness and pain. Of oppression. Of chores and impossible tasks. Of abuse and manipulation. I hope, with all of my heart, that you got that. Be careful what you wish for. I hope you will one day realize what you did, what you lost and what you almost cost us all. Maybe Harry will one day forgive you, I don't know. I know _I_ never will. NEVER."  
Hermione screamed those last words, howling and crying.

After a while she stopped crying, yet she was not yet done. She spoke to herself and yet to Harry, knowing he could not hear her. She was glad he could not.  
"Harry, do you know how special you are? Everyone else would have given up hope, would have stopped to oppose Voldemort. I don't think that, even without the prophecy, anyone else would have survived all you withstood. While I am thankful for it, every day again, I truly wonder how you kept the ability to care for others, to love, to forgive. How you kept your sanity, your spirit and your willpower. There is nothing I am more thankful for than to have you in my life. You believe you are the cause of so many things not your fault. Do you ever realize what life with the Dursleys did to you? I think that everyone else would have wanted revenge – on the Dursleys, on the person who placed you there. The only revenge you ever wanted was on Bellatrix, for killing Sirius. Even Voldemort was more duty and expectations than revenge. You truly are one of a kind, Harry. I know _I_ would not have survived the life you lived, and I truly can't imagine how it must have been, growing up without _any_ love at all… I can only hope that one day you will realize this all yourself as well. I know you want to be 'just Harry', but 'just Harry' does not exist, you know. The loss of your parents, the Dursleys, the Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets and Voldemort's Diary, Wormtail, the Triwizard Tournament and another encounter with Voldemort, the loss of Sirius, the Second War… It all became part of you, made you _you_. You went through so much more than anyone else, that you could never be 'just someone', Harry. Just Harry, as a normal, common person, would be so different from who and what you are, that it could never be you. Even when the public leaves you alone, you will still be so much more than average, Harry, always."

When she thought of Harry, a feeling of love and protection surrounded her. She knew he had to deal with his problems himself, like she had to deal with her own problems. It frustrated her to see the man she loved more than anything in the world struggle with his past like this, and she knew that while she'd always be there for him, as long as she'd live, when he needed help, whether it was insight, support, love or anything else, he'd have to do it himself in the end. He was always there for others, to help them, to support them, yet he rarely took time to deal with his own problems. It was as if everyone else in the world seemed more important to him than he himself.  
_"Damn Dursleys…"_ Hermione whispered again. "_Damn Voldemort. Damn Dumbledore. Damn you, Ron, damn you." _She wiped her face with her sleeve.

Only a few moments later, she heard Harry walking down the stairs. With a quick '_Finite Incantatem_' she ended the spell she had used before she started on her rant. Almost immediately after she was done, Harry entered the room. He noticed the irritation and redness on her face, caused by the salt tears, and quickly walked towards Hermione.

"'Mi, are you okay?" He looked at her, worry clearly visible in his eyes.

Hermione nodded softly. "Yes, I am fine now. Thanks for asking, though."

"Are you sure, 'Mi? Is there anything I can do for you? Get you a glass of water, perhaps?"

She shook her head. "No, nothing. I am fine now, Harry. Really."

Harry nodded. Whether she was or not, she'd insist she was fine if he'd ask again anyway, so it made no sense to do so.

"Just know that if anything's wrong, you can always count on me. You know that, right, love?"

Hermione smiled at him. "Yes, I know, darling, I know. Don't worry."

Harry smiled too. "Perhaps we should pop over to London?"

"Yes, that would be best, I guess. Where?"

He thought for a moment. Much of Wizarding London was still in ruins. In Muggle London they could not just apparate in, for it would scare many people. "The Leaky Cauldron? Easy access to both the Magical and Muggle world."

Hermione thought for a moment. "I guess that's fine. And it's at Charing Cross Road, which is not too far from the place where we'll meet my parents. Seems okay to me."

Harry smiled and nodded. They both stood up. "At five?"

"Seems fine."

"One… Two… Three… Four… Five!"


	6. Chapter 5 In which Harry Meets

**Summary: **Voldemort has been defeated by Harry after a gruesome war. Harry realizes that while the acute problem has been solved, the reasons that this could happen are still there. Change is needed. A new prophecy is made. A new time will start. It seems that Voldemort's destruction was only _part_ of Harry's destiny. HPHG

**Warnings: **Het. HP/HG pairing. Character Deaths - Previous to Story (among which are Dumbledore; the Dursleys; Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange) Non HBP/DH-compliant. Probably more later. Mentions of violence, murder etc. during Voldemort's second war.  
Ron-bashing. Dumbledore-bashing. Dursley-bashing.

**Beta: **None yet. Anyway, if someone wants to beta, drop me a message. Otherwise I'll search for one soon.

**Note**** about Grammar and Spelling: **English is only my second language. I am certain I have made some mistakes and stupid errors _somewhere_. Ah, found the first one. Accidentally used 'where' instead of 'were' in chapter 3. Corrected it, though. Feel free to point errors out so I can change them - just don't troll and/or flame, 'kay? I, like almost everyone, am fond of reviews. I prefer (constructive) critic though. While it is nice to hear someone loves the story, I'd still like to know what I can improve to make it better. While it's a bit less nice to hear someone hates my story, I still prefer to know _why_ people hate it.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own, nor claim any kind of ownership on the original material, referenced in this work. I do not expect, nor will accept any payment or compensation for this work, as it is being done in the nature of _fan_fiction. Anything you recognize is bound to be Rowling's work or coincidence with fanfiction someone else wrote. I have, to my knowledge, not borrowed/'stolen' plotlines or characters from other fanfic authors. If I borrow something, I will place a note somewhere - either in the disclaimer or in an Author's Note.

**Note: **Some warnings were addedbased on chapter 4. They continue to count for all of the story. Again, thanks to all readers, reviewers, people who added me or my story to alerts or favs and those who added my story to the C2s _Blah Blah Blah_ and _Harry Potter Top 1000_.  
While I am truly thankful for the reviews I've received, I'd love to get more. If anyone feels like it, know I'd appreciate it. I like to know what people think of my story. Originally chapter 4 and this one were supposed to be one, but I didn't want to let you guys wait too long – therefore I cut it into two parts and posted the first of them as chapter 4.**  
Sorry for the slow update, but first my job and school took up most of my time, and then I was on holiday with no pc available. **

Since I have never been in London or even only England, most names of shops, pubs etc. and their locations will most likely be made up. If you see any name you don't recognize, it's probably made up. Sorry, I am willing to research much, but actual pub-names and their locations goes a bit too far.

* * *

_**Chapter 5 – **__**In which Harry meets the Parents-In-Law and the Honorary Godfather**_

With a pop so soft it was almost impossible to hear, Hermione and Harry disappeared from their kitchen and at the same moment, perhaps a second later they appeared again, this time in the Leaky Cauldron, in one of its backrooms. It would be very embarrassing should they appear _on top_ of someone else, after all. They looked at each other for a moment, Hermione cleaned the trails of tears from her face and clothes with a quick _scourgify_.

Harry gave her a soft kiss on her forehead, then whispered a _Tempus_. 9.43 am, more than a quarter before they would have come to London otherwise – exactly 47 to 77 minutes until the meeting with his Parents-In-Law, Dan and Emma Granger and his Honorary Godfather, Remus "Moony" Lupin was scheduled to begin. Somewhere between half past ten and eleven they'd meet. While he had seen Remus – _Moony_ – a few times since Voldemort's fall, it was quite a while ago that they last met nonetheless. He had never properly met Hermione's parents. All they ever had done was exchange a few words at the King's Cross Station.

Despite everything, he _was_ nervous. Both Hermione's parents were Muggles, and while 18 and 19 were perfectly _legal_ ages to marry, it had become uncommon in the modern Muggle world to marry that young. He was worried about what Hermione's parents would say when they met them. They had perhaps spoken twenty words before the war broke loose, and now he was _married_ to their daughter all of a sudden.

"Where had we scheduled to meet your parents again, 'Mione?"

"The Irish Pub near Grimmauld Place."

Harry nodded. "Ah, yes, of course."

Hermione stared at him. "You are really nervous, aren't you?"

Harry sighed. "No, I'm not nervous at all. I mean, why would I be nervous about meeting my _parents-in-law_ with whom I've never even spoken as much as fifty words before I went and **married** you? Why would I be nervous about meeting the parents of a girl I love more than life itself, when I know **I** am the one that dragged her into a war not hers? When I know, I _know_ that without me you'd have lived in peace. That without me you would never have seen as many of the horrors of war. Why would I be nervous of meeting the parents of a girl that could have easily died because of me, almost _did_ so, even?" His breathing went faster and faster, tears rolled down his face.

"Why would I be nervous of meeting the parents _I_ forced, whether directly or not, to leave their only daughter behind in a war where she'd be one of the main targets? Why would I be nervous of meeting my _parents-in-law_ whose daughter I married while they don't even know me? Why would I be nervous, Hermione? I will be judged. I_ brought you into war, 'Mione, _I_ made you a main target, _I_ almost was your death and yet now I am your _husband? 'Mione, I will be judged and I will be found wanting." Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm, not to scream or yell or shout.

"For how can your parents ever see me as anything but a danger to you? I know I love you with all my heart. I know I love you more than anything the world can give me. I love you, 'Mione, but what can your parents do but try to take you away from me? In their eyes – and in my own as well – I have brought you into war, into danger and into peril. How can they ever judge me and find me worthy of someone as great as you are? I _know_ I am not worthy, yet I thank the Higher Beings every day that we may be together. I _know_ I love you and I need you, but you deserve much, much more than I am or can ever be. Just my love is not enough, 'Mione, you deserve a better person. I know I don't deserve you, my love, I know it deep within my own heart. I am thankful you chose for me, thankful you give me your love every day again. Thankful you choose to be there at my side, and I hope we'll stay together forever. I know you want me, love me, perhaps even need me, and I am glad for it, but I know, deep within, that you could have had a better life and a better person…"

At that moment, Hermione took a deep breath. She was furious – not at Harry, but at the people that had caused him to feel like this. The Dursleys. Dumbledore. Ronald Bilius Weasley. Even though she had ranted but minutes ago, she immediately felt the same urge again. It would take a long, long time for Harry to leave his youth behind… if he ever could.

"_Stop_, Harry. YOU. ARE. NOT. TO. BLAME! No matter how often I must repeat it, Harry, _you are not the cause of everything bad that happens_." She sighed. _If anything, Harry, you are the cause of all hope. Without you, there would be no peace, no freedom and no hope for change. Without you, we'd be suffering under Voldemort's reign. Are you really unable to see it? _

"You_ do_ remember I am a muggleborn, Harry, don't you? You _do_ know that Draco Malfoy himself hated me? Without you, I'd have been a main target of the New Inner Circle just as well_ and I would not have lived_. You were not nearly my DEATH, Harry, you were the only reason I survived. I cannot think of a more deserving person in the world, Harry. I love you. I will always love you. To me, you are worthy. To everyone who bothers to get to know _you_, not the nonsense written about you, _you are worthy_. Oh Harry, how I wish you could see it yourself. If anything, Harry, _you_ deserve a better person and a better life. I am glad we can be together, and never think anyone can divide us. _Harry, if my parents do not approve, it will be _you_ I choose for. Not them. _Without you, I am **nothing. **Nothing, Harry."

A tear leaked from Hermione's eye, and when she looked at the boy – the _man_ – she loved, she noticed that he too was crying. They hugged each other, strongly.

"If the war could not drive us apart, Harry, then my parents won't be able to either," Hermione murmured in his ear, sobbing softly against his shoulder.

"We survived war together, Harry. You saved me, time after time. I owe my life to you, my freedom and my sanity. I mean it, Harry, when I say that I would be nothing without you."

They just stood there, hugging each other, crying softly, soundlessly. To both of them, the other was the most important person in their lifes. They both knew that they could not live without each other. Finally, after standing there silently for minutes, they loosened their grip on the other. Harry looked at Hermione.

"Sorry for making you cry, love," he whispered softly to her. Both wiped their eyes and cleaned their shirts and cheeks from the tearstains with a 'scourgify' and a small wand movement.

"Ready?" Harry asked Hermione. She nodded.

"Ready."

They walked out of the Leaky Cauldron into Muggle London. Despite the fact that it had been a Wizarding War and not a Muggle War, it was easy to see the damage, even in the Muggle part of the city. The Muggles had assumed it to be terrorism. Buildings had been 'bombed', people were 'blown up' by 'suicide bombers' and 'car bombs' left behind by 'terrorists'.

They had no other explanation for the situation, and it had frightened the Muggle World. No one knew who was behind the terrorism, or why. Many theories had been there, unfounded by any evidence. Many witches and wizards had been killed in the war, but even more 'muggles', of which many had recently been proven to be squibs living in the Muggle World. Despite this all, there had been many people killed that truly were Muggles, and most of them had nothing to do with the Wizarding War.

As they walked through the streets of London, it saddened Harry to see how scared people were, how much damage the Second War had done to everyone – not just the Wizarding World.

As they found the Irish Pub near Grimmauld Place, it was close to the scheduled time of arrival already. If everyone else was on time, Harry would be properly meeting his Parents-In-Law for the first time. Ten minutes to go before he'd be judged.

They quickly chose a table in one of the corners, when Harry offered to get the drinks.

"What do you want to drink, 'Mione?" Harry asked his wife. She pondered for a moment. "A coffee would be fine, Harry." Harry smiled and went to the bar to order something to drink. A few minutes after he and Hermione had seated themselves, Hermione's parents arrived. Hermione stood up immediately, followed by Harry, and gestured towards their table. After a big hug, Hermione's parents went to sit next to eachother, on the opposite side of the table Hermione and Harry were seated at.

At first there was an uncomfortable silence. What do you say to a daughter you haven't seen for years after all, especially when she just went to a war and married to a guy you hardly know?

In the end it was Harry that proved the solution.

"Good Morning, Mrs. Granger," he nodded politely to Hermione's mother, "Mr. Granger. I am Harry Potter. Please call me Harry, though. I'm tired of all the 'Mr. Potter', to be honest."

He introduced himself to the couple, because even though they knew they'd be meeting him and had met eachother quickly at the station in the past, Harry had never properly introduced himself to them.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Harry, but call me Emma, please, Mrs. Granger makes me feel so old," Hermione's mother answered. Hermione giggled, attempting to lighten the situation with some humor – something she would never have done before the war. "You _are_ forty-one, mom." Her mother graciously ignored that remark.

"It's nice to meet you indeed, Harry," Hermione's father replied, "but like my wife, please call me Dan."

Just when they had finished the introductions, Remus entered the pub. After a short look, he noticed them in the corner and came to the table.

"Remus, this is Mr. and Mrs. Granger," he introduced them to Moony, "Hermione's parents. Dan, Emma, this is Remus "Moony" Lupin, my honorary godfather."

The adults politely greeted each other, then the uncomfortable silence returned. For a couple of minutes, they all were silent, then Emma broke the silence.

"So, you're married now?" She asked her only daughter. Hermione nodded and smiled proudly, showing her parents the wedding ring on her finger.

"Yes, we married eightteen days ago."

Emma smiled. "And you're happy, dear?"

Hermione beamed. "Yes, of course I am. I love Harry with all my heart, and I know he does the same."

"I am glad to hear so. I must say I was surprised to hear you two chose to marry so young already," Dan frowned a bit, "but I can see you two love each other."

Emma looked at her husband. "They're not much younger than we were, dear," she reminded him.

He blushed a bit. "I know dear, but you know why," he looked at them strictly, with a new frown on his face, looking at Harry judgingly.

"That was not the reason you two chose to marry so fast, was it?"

Hermione looked at her father questioningly. "What do you mean, dad?"

He frowned. "You are not, you know, pregnant, are you?"

Both Hermione and Harry shook their heads immediately. "No, dad, I'm not pregnant. But do you mean _you_ got mom pregnant before your wedding, daddy?"

She raised an eyebrow teasingly.

"Shush, you," Dan said, blushing heavily. "It's not about me and your mother now, is it?"

To Harry's surprise, Remus blushed as well. He decided to ask him about that later.

"So, Dan, Emma, Hermione has been talking about you so much that it feels like I know you both, but I'd love to hear some of it from you both."

They ordered some more drinks and some food as everyone was a little hungry.

They kept talking for hours, and while Harry still felt like he was judged by them sometimes – more often Dan than Emma – he also realized he really liked Hermione's parents. He imagined what his youth would have been like if he had had such nice and caring parents like them after Lily and James died, instead of the Dursleys.

Remus also spoke much, telling about how Harry had been when he was a baby, telling stories about the time of the Marauders.

They spoke about the war as well, about the injustice of their legal system, the stagnation in the Wizarding World, the need for Revolution, and about their plans to lead this Revolution.

After three hours, Dan and Emma said goodbye to the three of them because they had moved back to England just a few days ago and they needed to arrange many things, and to readjust to their homeland, after making Harry and Hermione promise to visit them next week.

Harry and Hermione got Remus back up-to-date for the upcoming Circle Meeting before they left the Irish Pub together to go back to Wizarding London again, preparing themselves for the upcoming Meeting of the Circle, which was only an hour away.


End file.
